


The Devil You Know

by eeyore9990



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, disturbing conduct by a minor (including a brief episode of animal cruelty), epilogue-compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-12
Updated: 2008-10-12
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5866150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning. - <b>Ivy Baker Priest</b>, <i>in Parade, 1958</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil You Know

**Author's Note:**

> In addition to the tremendous help I received from my betas, I would be remiss if I did not give my undying thanks to the following ladies for their incredible help with plot, pacing, and overall awesomeness: Unbroken_halo, R_Grayjoy, Romaine24, and VL Redreign, among others, were absolutely instrumental to the completion of this fic.

Bishops move diagonally. That's why they often turn up where the kings don't expect them to be. -- **Terry Pratchett** , _Small Gods_  


* * *

Draco blinked once, the only sign that he was paying any attention to the words coming from the Healer's mouth.

"Your son…"

The room was green. Not a nice, healthful shade of green, but a putrid, eye-searing chartreuse that defied description. 

"… dead…"

Every hospital in the world probably started out with nice, pleasant eggshell-coloured walls, but due to cracks in the walls of the universe, they all turned into this. It was as if the walls were decaying before his eyes and no one had the sense to stop them.

"We were able…"

The orange chairs couldn't have clashed more horribly if they'd been purchased with the intention of being occupied by Weasleys. Actually, that might provide an explanation, now he thought about it.

"…sleeping peacefully…"

Turning his head, Draco speared the Healer with his gaze and calmly spoke over the rapidly flustering man. "Where is Scorpius? I would like to remove him to the Manor. His personal Healer will continue his treatments. I expect to find his charts—not _copies_ , mind you, but every bit of paperwork associated with today's… mishap—owled to me at your earliest convenience. An appropriate donation will, of course, be made to St Mungo's for your excellent treatment of my son."

"Ah, Mr Malfoy, I don't think that would be a good idea—"

"Paid to have good ideas, are you? Splendid. I'll expect that owl before tea."

Standing, Draco offered a hand to his wife, who was quietly sniffling—disgusting habit, that—and led her from the room. In the corridor, he accosted the first Healer he came to and was immediately directed to his son's room.

"Draco, perhaps we shouldn't—" 

"Don't tax yourself, dear," Draco said, his voice slicing thinly but cutting deep. "I didn't marry you for your ability to think, after all." Astoria quieted immediately, though Draco could positively _feel_ the wave of ice she was projecting towards him. 

Draco watched closely as Scorpius—so tiny and pale against the starched sheets—was readied for Portkey home. Draco allowed himself one small, relieved breath as his child was whisked away by magic, then resumed his mien of cool indifference as he dealt with the matter of the Malfoy image.

A weighty bag filled with Galleons saw to it that there existed no record of his son's brief hospital stay.

* * *

"Mr Potter?"

Harry Potter, Head Auror and all around Man in Charge of Paperwork, looked up from his desk to see his secretary framed in the doorway of his tiny office. "Yes?"

"Draco Malfoy is here to see you, sir."

Harry sat back, blinking in a combination of shock and horror. "Does he have an appointment?"

Percy shook his head slowly and he seemed a bit relieved as he said, "I'll have him make one then, shall I?"

Harry grimaced, holding one hand up. "Wait a minute, Perce. I have to go to Beijing next week and I have that report for the Wizengamot due on Thursday before I leave…" Spearing his fingers through his hair, Harry sighed. Looking fatalistically at the mounds of paperwork threatening to spill to the floor—in truth, he hadn't quite perfected the charms that kept them in neat stacks, so their degree of tilt was mostly his fault—Harry shook his head and said, "I'll see him now. But let him know I don't have much time, will you?"

Percy frowned in faint disapproval, but nodded and turned away. 

"Oh, and Percy?"

"Yes, sir?"

Narrowing his eyes at Percy's flagrant dismissal of Harry's repeated attempts at a less formal working relationship, Harry said, "Did you send your mum that owl about dinner on Sunday?"

"I did."

Wincing slightly, Harry whispered, "And?"

"I'll hold the Howler until after your meeting with Mr Malfoy."

"Blast! You're no friend at all."

"You're the one refusing to attend a family dinner," Percy said with a shrug.

"Ginny will be there with her new boyfriend! It will be… awkward!"

Percy pulled the door shut with a very final _thud_. Harry could hear his voice through the thick oak, directing Malfoy to enter, and attempted without success to smooth his hair, clothes, glasses, and desk. 

He should have started with his glasses. _Those_ he had some hope with.

* * *

"Potter."

Draco allowed Potter to interpret Draco's pronouncement of his name as a greeting. He took a moment to peruse the ridiculous office he'd been shown into then turned to Potter—who, unbelievably, hadn't changed one iota since their schooldays… well, except for the filling out he'd done through his shoulders and the tiny lines at the edges of his eyes.

"Weasley still attached to your hip, I see."

Potter blinked confusedly at that. "Percy's only been my secretary since June…"

"Ahh, not the same Weasley then. You'll forgive me my inability to tell them apart?" Picking up a small curio from a tiny table set against an award-bedecked wall, Draco added musingly, "There was a lovely invention in the fifties. Wizardspace. I'll have to send you a brochure."

"Right after I get you a hair restoring draught." 

Draco opened his mouth to reply, only to have Potter speak over him. 

"If you came here to insult me, my friends and colleagues, and my office, you'd do best to leave. Remarkably, the door is still standing exactly where it was when you entered."

Draco carefully replaced the trinket into its dust-outline and turned back to Potter. Seeing the stubborn set to Potter's jaw, Draco decided it was time to change tactics. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Draco tried for a contrite expression as he said coolly, "My apologies, Potter. I am a bit out of sorts. I will make every attempt to curtail my opinions for the duration of our interview."

Potter's short, exasperated sigh was weighty enough to push several sheets of parchment off his desk. "I don't care how 'out of sorts' you are, Malfoy. What do you want?"

"I have something of a rather private nature to discuss with you." Draco knew the moment the words were out of his mouth that he should have chosen them better. Potter's eyes gleamed with humour and his rejoinder could have come from the mouth of a thirteen year old.

"While I'm not a Healer, I would suggest that the green ooze leaking from your prick is a bad sign. Perhaps instead of seeing me, you should be making an appointment with St Mungo's immediately. Oh, and lay off the visits to Knockturn Alley. I'm fairly certain that's where most men of a certain age find 'things of a private nature.'" Potter's satisfied smile kept Draco's first three responses at bay. The bespectacled idiot wanted an excuse to throw Draco from his office; he was bound for disappointment.

Smiling softly, Draco directed a cleaning charm at the only other chair in the office before gingerly seating himself on it. With the air of one who was about to release the trigger mechanism for a bomb, Draco broke the hostile silence.

"My son is a Parselmouth."

* * *

Harry leaned forward in his seat, shoving a teetering stack of inter-office memos out of his way as he stared slack-jawed at Malfoy. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

A knock at his office door broke the staring contest that had somehow arisen between Harry and Malfoy, and he looked up when Percy poked his head in. "Mr Potter, the Minister—"

"Not now, Percy."

Setting his jaw stubbornly, Percy said, "The _Minister_ has requested a meeting of all the Heads of Department."

"Send my excuses—"

" _Now._ " Percy waited a beat before offering, "Sir."

"I'm _otherwise engaged_. Just send a memo to his secretary—"

The door shut on his orders.

"Problems with the staff?" Malfoy asked, tapping a finger against the armrest of his chair. "Well, no matter. When you have a moment in your… busy… schedule, feel free to Floo the Manor." Malfoy stood smoothly, dropping a creamy, embossed card on Harry's desk. Harry picked it up, running his fingertips across the Floo address.

"Wait, Malfoy."

But Malfoy was already turning away.

"Are you sure?"

Stilling with his hand on the doorknob, Malfoy turned so that Harry could see his profile. "I wouldn't have contacted you otherwise." Without another word, Malfoy opened the door and walked out.

Even more unfortunate than Malfoy's escape was that it allowed Molly Weasley's Howler entry to Harry's office. Her tirade made him five minutes late to the meeting with the Heads of Department, and he was still expected at dinner on Sunday.

Just before thinking the day couldn't get any worse, Harry cut off the thought. Personal history taught that it could _always_ get worse.

* * *

Harry stumbled out of Malfoy's Floo, just managing to remain on his feet. He took rather more satisfaction than he should have in the black soot that sprinkled from his clothing onto the immaculate, white carpet. Who kept white carpet in their Floo entrance, after all?

Footsteps could be heard in the hall before Malfoy entered, looking smooth and unruffled. A harsh sigh preceded the snapping of Malfoy's fingers; the house-elf he'd summoned took one look at the carpet before glaring daggers at Harry.

Shaking his head, Malfoy said, "Follow me, Potter. And do try not to… leak… everywhere."

"It's soot. It's a hazard of Floo travel."

Though Malfoy didn't say anything to that, Harry still felt compelled to say, "Shut up."

"My office is through here."

Harry stepped into a room that would have encased the entirety of his flat… and his flat wasn't small by any means. "This is your office?"

"Yes. This is where I conduct the business of the Malfoy properties." Striding across the long room to a huge desk, Malfoy gracefully settled himself behind it before waving lazily to the grouping of chairs across from him.

Shaking his head at the overwhelming extravagance of it all, Harry walked over to take a seat. 

"Just one moment," Malfoy said before Harry sat down. Pointing his wand, Malfoy muttered a cleaning charm on Harry before nodding for him to take his seat. Rolling his eyes, Harry did.

Cutting to the chase, Harry asked, "You said your son was a Parselmouth?"

"Yes."

When Malfoy didn't elaborate, Harry sighed and settled in for a long interview. "When did you first notice this?"

"Approximately three years ago. He was given a pet snake for his eighth birthday—"

"You gave an _eight year old boy_ a snake?!" A cold look silenced Harry, who sat back and spread his hands, gesturing for Malfoy to continue.

"When he began hissing at it, we assumed at first that he was simply attempting to make the noises he thought it might like to hear. It was when it began communicating with him that we understood the truth."

"Communicating how?"

"My son was able to glean certain bits of information that he could not have possibly known. Such as the fact that the snake was female and had been removed from her nest while she was waiting for her clutch of eggs to hatch. Scorpius, who has always been a rather gentle and kind boy,"—the way Malfoy's lip curled told Harry exactly how he felt about _that_ —"insisted we bring her back to her home immediately so that she could be reunited with her children."

"Could it have been imaginative play?"

"Do you mean to ask whether my son was lying to me?"

"No, Malfoy, not lying, simply… creating a background story for his new pet. Perhaps a pet he really didn't want. A snake, for crying out loud."

"Scorpius had been asking for a pet for the better part of a year, Potter—"

"A pet, yes! A puppy or a kitten or—"

"Or an Eastern Kingsnake. He would slide pictures of the snake he preferred in between stacks of my paperwork, put them under my napkin at table, litter my wardrobe with them. He slept with a glossy photo of one under his pillow for five months. He wanted an Eastern Kingsnake, and he was adamant that we procure one for his birthday."

Harry shook his head in disbelief but didn't question Malfoy again. "So, he started talking to snakes about three years ago. Could it have been wild magic manifesting itself? I mean to say, was it just that one occurrence?"

Malfoy shook his head. "No. My son can speak to any snake as well as any portrait that contains a snake. If he's looking at a picture of a snake, he'll begin speaking in hisses… without realising it."

Harry nodded, slightly worried now. "I understand. It works the same for me." Pushing up his glasses, Harry began to rub at his temples before he said, "May I speak with the boy?"

"Is that necessary?"

Harry sighed. "Why else would I be here?"

Malfoy looked down at the top of his desk where his fingers were smoothing across the glossy surface. "Scorpius is unavailable at the moment. I had hoped to speak to you alone, to glean information from you as to the reception he's likely to find at school."

"Is he scheduled to attend Hogwarts this year?"

"Yes."

Harry rubbed one hand over the back of his neck. "I'm not going to sugar-coat the truth, Malfoy. If his classmates find out, they'll shun him."

"Even though the world knows that _you_ are a Parselmouth yourself?"

Harry shrugged. "It still makes everyone I know extremely uncomfortable when I do it. It was too well-known that Voldemort was a Parselmouth for anyone to feel at ease in the presence of one." Harry didn't give any indication that he noticed the way Malfoy's left eye twitched at the sound of Voldemort's name. Harry softened slightly, remembering that Malfoy had been forced into Voldemort's company for several months during that last year. Harry knew the nightmares he still faced; he couldn't imagine what sort of fodder Malfoy had for his own.

"Is there any way to… ignore the ability? To stop using it?"

Harry blinked at that question. "I'm… not certain. I assume it would be like not using the ability to see colours. It's completely involuntary."

He watched, slightly confused, as Malfoy's nostrils flared for a moment. "Thank you, Potter. You've been… well. I can't say you've been helpful, but you've certainly answered my question. For which I am happy to give a donation to the Auror Office."

Harry shook his head, still bemused at Malfoy's reaction. "No, thanks. We don't accept donations. I came because I wanted to learn more about Scorpius, and help if possible." Reaching into his back pocket, Harry drew forth a scuffed leather wallet from which he plucked a plain white card, the edges bent and wrinkled. "Floo me if you have any other questions."

Malfoy nodded and took the card, immediately placing it into the bottom drawer of his desk. "Thank you again for your time, Potter."

Harry nodded and started to turn away before he paused and said, "You do know that this isn't something that Scorpius did on purpose, right?"

Malfoy ran a finger over his top lip before he raised his eyes to Harry and said, "Of course."

* * *

Draco moved through the Manor, restless and anxious. He hated to have involved Potter in this, but he knew something was simply… not right. Astoria would be returning home for a week at the end of the month to see Scorpius onto the train to Hogwarts before fleeing back to France and into the arms of her lover there.

Draco wondered sometimes what it meant that he couldn't even summon a moment of outrage over the fact that his wife was openly cuckolding him. He never dwelt on it long, though. Astoria was the perfect society wife when he needed her, had added to the obscene wealth of the Malfoy family, and had given him a perfect son and heir. She had done her duty to Draco and he was rather happier when she wasn't around to interrupt his day.

Finding himself without pressing business to attend to, Draco started up the stairs to seek out his son. Their days together were quickly counting down. September the first would come around before Draco could possibly prepare himself. A hint of melancholy swept over Draco as he realised that his son would soon be beyond the reach of his protection.

Forcing a slight smile to his lips and the morose thoughts from his mind, Draco peered around the opened door to the large playroom. Scorpius was kneeling on the ground, bent over something Draco couldn't see.

Fondness rose up within Draco, swamping him with tenderness for a moment before he stepped forward, his footsteps silenced by the thick carpeting that stretched from wall to wall. When he finally got close enough, Draco was first startled, then sickened to see Mercury—the family owl—lying prone on the floor as Scorpius prodded it with a wand.

"Wake up," Scorpius called, his voice sounding rather angry and… odd. The register and cadence of his voice was all wrong. "Wake up, you stupid bird!"

Draco reached a shaking hand down, gripping Scorpius lightly. "What are you doing, son?" he asked quietly, his horrified gaze taking in the fact that the owl didn't appear to be breathing.

Scorpius turned quickly, startling Draco with the speed of the movement. Looking down into his son's eyes, Draco's gut clenched, and he nearly fell backwards. Where Scorpius' eyes were normally a placid grey, now they showed a ring of red around the irises.

"I was just playing with it, Father. I was just playing. But it _won't wake up!_ " Scorpius stood as he shouted the words, trembling all over. 

"Scorpius!" Draco's voice was stern, commanding. "Stop this! Right this minute. You will stop this."

Scorpius closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath through his nose before his body slumped into Draco's arms. Just that quickly, he appeared to be sleeping, but Draco knew he would soon open his eyes, all smiles and childish wonder. 

These occurrences of darkness rising within Scorpius had been happening with greater and greater frequency as his son had grown.

"Father?" 

Draco, whose gaze had been frozen for a long moment on the owl lying stiffly on the floor, looked back down at Scorpius. "Yes, son?" 

"Why is Mercury sleeping in my playroom?"

* * *

Harry and Ginny had not been right for each other as marital partners, but there was a never a problem with their friendship or their love for their children. On the first of September they took the children to King’s Cross together to see them off to school. Harry listened affectionately to Al’s worries and did what he could to alleviate them before Ron drew his attention to the Malfoy family standing across the platform from them.

Steam from the huge engines of the Hogwarts Express billowed around them, but Harry couldn't tear his eyes from Draco's lean, stiff form. 

All was obviously not well.

Harry turned back, exchanging banter with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny before giving his sons tight hugs and telling them he'd see them in a few weeks.

"What's that, mate?" Ron asked after the train had pulled away, taking two of his most precious possessions off to a hopefully boring year of school. "I heard you telling the boys you'd see them soon?"

Harry turned and nodded. "That's right. I've been invited by the current DADA professor to give lectures to the NEWT level classes and, perhaps, a few in-class demonstrations. They've asked me every year since I became Head Auror; I just usually don't have the time."

Ron's lips twitched. "He didn't ask you to teach them how you defeated a Dark Lord, did he?"

"Actually, _she_ was there and knows they'll have covered Expelliarmus during second year," Harry replied dryly just as Hermione punched Ron in the arm.

"Ron! I know I told you several times that Katie had left the Harpies to take the teaching position at Hogwarts," Ginny scolded.

"And why must the DADA professor be a _man_ , Ronald?" Hermione asked, her voice cold as ice.

Biting off a chuckle, Harry shrugged at his beleaguered best mate before turning to sweep a still pouting Lily into his arms. "Going to Grandma Weasley's?" he asked softly as the women continued berating Ron.

"Yeah," Lily said, winding her small hand around his neck and laying her head on his shoulder. "I don't want to, though. I want to go to Hogwarts with Al and James."

"Sweetheart, you're already growing up far too fast for my peace of mind. I'll make you a deal, though, okay?" When she nodded minutely against his shoulder, Harry smiled and continued. "You agree to stay my little girl for the next year and I'll take you with me when I go to Hogwarts at the end of the month."

Lily's head shot off his shoulder, her eyes growing round with wonder. "Really, Dad?"

"Really. My word as an Auror. It'll be a holiday, just for us."

She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly, placing a wet smacking kiss on his cheek.

Harry's heart clenched at the thought that he was only one year away from sending his baby off to school, but he pushed the future aside for the moment to revel in the _now_.

* * *

Draco stared at the head wavering in the green flames of his Floo, his expression devoid of the turmoil churning inside him.

"Thank you, Auror Hastings. You'll see proof of my appreciation for your fine work in your account by close of business today." Without another word, Draco closed off the Floo connection. "Tipsy!"

The elf appeared soundlessly, his head bowed respectfully before his master. "Tipsy is here, Master Draco."

"I see that. Are you still in correspondence with Kreacher?"

Tipsy's ears quivered in fear as he raised his large eyes to Draco. Tiny thoughts appeared to flitter through his tinier brain, but Draco had seen enough.

"Obviously you are. I would like you to write to him—"

"Tipsy doesn't know how to write, Master," the elf whispered.

"I don't care _how_ you find the information," Draco said, exasperation tingeing his words. "But I want to be a guest of Hogwarts beginning in two weeks. Kreacher has close connections with the house-elves there and should be able to ask inconspicuous questions to further my aims. I _need_ to make this happen. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," Tipsy said, relaxing minutely.

"Good. Report to me as soon as you've found a way for me to be at the castle. I will need to stay… indefinitely. Find a way."

Tipsy nodded and was about to leave when Draco murmured, "Don't forget to iron your ears."

Looking oddly relieved, the house-elf disappeared.

Relaxing back into his chair, Draco stared at his schedule, mentally rearranging it to accommodate his upcoming trip. He immediately cancelled his holiday to France—Astoria would simply have to buy Paris without him—and his end-of-month personal financial meeting at Gringotts. He drafted owls to reschedule some minor meetings and was left with three that were simply unmoveable. He would have to make arrangements once he was at Hogwarts to use one of the private Floo connections for those. Finally satisfied with the state of his calendar, Draco sat back and let the information he'd gathered from various sources at the Ministry filter through his head. 

Nothing was clear yet, but for the fact that something was terribly wrong with his son. Something that was showing itself more and more often and which, if Scorpius were not kept under close scrutiny, might come out at the worst time. Draco would not allow his son to face the condemnation of wizarding society if he could prevent it in any way. The fact that Scorpius had Malfoy attached to his name would be enough to see him an outcast; such darkness as he was exhibiting might find the boy in the custody of the Ministry. Witch-hunts had always been dangerous to those of a magical persuasion, no matter if the ones leading them were magic or Muggle.

* * *

Harry strode though the massive front doors, assailed once again by memories of his youth, of happiness and tragedy in mixed amounts. He could almost hear the echoes of Dumbledore's voice, see Fred chasing after a stray Wheeze, and sense the snap of Snape's robes. Lily's small hand squeezed his tightly and he quickly stretched his lips into a smile as he turned and looked down at her.

"It's okay, Dad. I'm here."

"Oh, baby." Harry dropped to his knees, pulling his daughter into his arms. Her slight frame wriggled against him for a moment before she pulled back and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his cheek. 

"We'll have so much fun while we're here that you won't have to be sad anymore, okay?"

Harry's smile this time wasn't forced. "I know a few secrets of this old castle that I just might show you."

"Just me?" Lily looked sceptical, not wanting to share what could be a valuable secret with her brothers. Harry thought—now that Al had been sorted into Ravenclaw—that Lily might just be his little Slytherin. 

"Just you." Harry tugged on one of her plaits and was about to stand up when he actually _did_ hear the crisp snap of robes behind him. Spinning on his knees, he looked up quickly to see Draco Malfoy standing there, watching him with Lily.

"Malfoy. What are you doing here?"

"Overseeing construction of the new Quidditch facilities, of course. And you?"

Harry slowly rose, wincing slightly when his knees protested his time on the floor. "I've been invited as a guest lecturer."

"Muggle Studies?" Malfoy asked, one brow raised as his eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts. Perhaps we can have a re-enactment of the old Duelling Club, just for the NEWT levels?" Harry smirked, twirling his wand through his fingers even as Lily looked wide-eyed between the two of them.

Malfoy's lips twitched. "Perhaps. I'll look over my schedule and see if I can fit it in."

"You do that. Now," he looked down at Lily, reaching again for her hand, "Lily and I are off to see the wizard!"

Lily giggled as Malfoy's brow creased. "The building is full of wizards."

Harry shook his head, lips making a moue of sympathy. "You had a deprived childhood, Malfoy. If you're not too busy later, ask me and I'll think about telling you the story of the Wizard of Oz."

"Hmph. I've never heard of him so he's obviously not worth knowing."

Lily's laughter rang through the halls before she tugged on Harry's hand, pulling him down so she could whisper in his ear. "I like him, Dad. He's funny."

Harry smiled and nodded, his eyes filled with mirth as he looked up at Malfoy. "Do you think we should invite him to dinner, Lily? We could tell him the story together."

Lily smiled up at Malfoy. "Yes, Dad. I think we should."

"Well, Malfoy? How about it? Will you have dinner with us in our rooms? I can guarantee the most beautiful girl on earth will be there."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and looked to be about to make a scathing comment when Lily stepped forward, putting her hand on one of his and—oh, dear lord—batted her eyelashes at him. Harry closed his eyes, rubbing his temples with one hand as he envisioned the long line of broken hearts in his daughter's future.

"Please, Mr Malfoy? I'd be so happy if you would come."

Apparently even Malfoy's heart wasn't hard enough to resist such an appeal. With a soft sigh, he nodded once, abruptly, before carefully disengaging his hand from Lily's and walking away.

Lily frowned, watching as he disappeared around a far corner. "Hmph! That was quite rude of him. He didn't even say goodbye."

* * *

"Potter." Draco didn't allow his surprise to show in his expression or his voice, although he had been quite startled to find that Potter's rooms were directly beside his own. 

"Malfoy." There was the slightest hint of humour in Potter's tone, but Draco brushed that aside for the moment as he took the opportunity to quiz the other man.

"I cannot help but find it fortunate that I've had the opportunity to catch you alone—"

"You're not planning to bow out of dinner, are you? Only, Lily's got her heart set on it…"

Draco pursed his lips at Potter's infuriating habit of interrupting. No manners at all. "I told her I would be there and I will. I simply have some questions for you that I don't believe belong in a family atmosphere."

For some reason, Potter's gaze slid down Draco's body before coming back to make eye contact once more. His lips twitched the slightest bit before he shrugged one shoulder and said, "Fine, I'm game."

Draco stepped back into his rooms, turning to hold the door for Potter before allowing it to close the two of them in together. Gesturing towards a small but comfortable arrangement of chairs, Draco invited Potter to have a seat as he went to the sideboard to pour them each a drink. Lifting the bottle of Firewhisky, Draco turned and arched one inquisitive brow. 

"None for me, thanks. Lily will be returning from her afternoon in the hospital wing soon."

"I do hope she isn't injured or ill?"

Potter chuckled and relaxed back into the armchair he'd chosen. "No, she's simply hearing about all the more gruesome aspects of my time here as a student."

Draco smiled fondly, recalling the incident with Potter, the Dementors, and the Whomping Willow in … was it their third year? He tilted his head, trying to recall. It seemed as if it had happened in a past life.

"The only time I didn't catch the Snitch," Potter stated drolly, causing Draco to check the strength of his Occlumency shields. 

"I don't know what you mean," he murmured, settling into a chair of his own after handing Potter a frosty drink. 

"Don't bother trying to hide it, Malfoy. I'd notice that expression of smug superiority anywhere." He took a sip of his drink and pulled a face. "Pumpkin juice? I really _am_ back at Hogwarts."

Draco smiled in acknowledgement of Potter's last statement before addressing the first. "Smug? Perhaps. It was a fine day for Slytherin when the Whomping Willow destroyed your… what model broom _was_ that?"

Potter instantly assumed the mien of a man still in mourning. "It was a Nimbus 2000. God, I loved that broom."

"Mmm. So the stories were true then, about what you Gryffindors did to polish them?"

Potter choked on his juice. "I know you said you wanted to ask personal questions, but I didn't know we were going to get pornographic!"

Draco chuckled, waving his hand vaguely. "My apologies. That was crass. I believe you might bring out the worst in me, Potter."

"I didn't say I _minded_ pornographic," Potter said, shooting Draco an odd look over the rim of his glass.

Failing to interpret that look, Draco shook his head and smoothly changed the subject. "I actually asked you in for something more than small talk."

"Oh?" 

"Were you born a Parselmouth, or is it something that only manifested itself with your magic?"

"That's a difficult question to answer." Potter leaned forward, all humour gone as he settled his now-empty glass on a small table nearby. "I didn't notice it until I was… oh, the summer just before Hogwarts, so I was nearly eleven. It was the first snake I had ever seen. I had no idea at the time that I was a wizard or that magic was anything other than a construct of imagination."

Draco couldn't prevent himself from interrupting at that point. "The devil you say!"

"It's true. My aunt and uncle knew, but they must have thought that if they could discourage it enough, the magic would go away. Dumbledore thought being a Parselmouth was a side effect of being cursed by Voldemort when I was a baby. That he somehow transferred the ability to me."

"And?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I initially thought so, after the war was over, but apparently I was simply… blocked. About seven years ago, I was surprised to find myself speaking with a snake on a St Mungo's placard. Or, rather, _Ginny_ was surprised. I wasn't even aware at first."

"So you really have no control over it?"

Potter shook his head and spread his hands. "No, I'm sorry. None."

The sound of a thousand pairs of feet outside the room transmitted itself through the walls then. Draco looked up at the clock, noting it was time for the classes to release for the day. "I apologise, Potter, but I'll have to bring our conversation to a close now. Scorpius will be here momentarily."

"He doesn't go to his common room?"

Draco shook his head just as he noticed a movement from the corner of his eye. He watched as Scorpius peered slowly around the edge of the doorway, only the top of his fair head visible for a moment before even that disappeared. A few heartbeats later, Scorpius sailed into the room, slamming the door behind him, his nose tilted at the perfect angle to assure Potter of his place on the evolutionary scale. 

Somewhere around primordial ooze, if Draco read his son correctly. 

Pride blazed within him as he watched Scorpius move smoothly, his head dipping in Potter's direction for the briefest of moments at their introduction before he began speaking in clipped accents about the atrocious lack of order to be found on the streets of wizarding London.

Draco smirked as Potter brought one hand to his forehead, rubbing fretfully at the pale scar that still marred the skin there.

"Your father tells me you're a Parselmouth, Mr Malfoy."

"Yes."

Draco raised one eyebrow as Potter's eyes darted to his before sliding away again.

"And have you been speaking with snakes for very long?"

"For as long as I can remember. And you, Mr Potter? I am to understand that you are a Parselmouth, as well?"

"Why, err. Yes. I am."

"And how long have _you_ been speaking to snakes?"

Draco covered his laugh with a polite cough when Potter rolled his eyes at the impertinent question.

"The first time I spoke to a snake was at the zoo, when I was a bit younger than you."

"Indeed?" Scorpius' eyebrow went up in as haughty a manner as Draco had ever managed to accomplish, and for a moment, his son's eyes locked on Potter's and something flickered through them that made Draco… uncomfortable.

"Scorpius, that's enough taunting."

Scorpius broke the staring contest, turning to blink almost dazedly at Draco before nodding once and moving to the small table where he immediately started on his homework. Potter continued to slide flickering glances at Scorpius, a haunted look on his face even as he raised one hand to again rub gently at his faded scar.

* * *

Harry could not recall the remainder of that afternoon. The lingering sense of darkness that had overwhelmed him when he'd been speaking with Malfoy's son, however, was still sending shivers of dread down his spine that evening as he opened the door to Malfoy. He managed to stifle his sigh of relief when he saw that their guest was alone.

He waited patiently through the retelling—with dancing and singing provided by Lily—of the Wizard of Oz and continued to hold off until his daughter was in bed before confronting Malfoy. When they were both settled before a low, cheerful fire with glasses of elf-made wine, Harry turned his head and, keeping his voice low, asked "How long have you known?"

Malfoy's fingers tightened on his glass before he said lightly, "What do you mean?"

"Come off it, Malfoy. I knew within minutes that Scorpius was a Horcrux. What I want to know is: how long have _you_ known? Did you—"

"No! God, Potter. I know you have a distinct lack of faith in my inherent goodness, but I'm not a fool. I wouldn't invite that madman back into my life." 

"But you did know."

Malfoy stared into his wine for a long moment before nodding his head once, the gesture sharp. "I knew… something."

"When did it happen? Was he born with it?"

"When he was four. It was his birthday. You should have seen him then, Potter. He was… he was so loving, so cheerful. He still is, to an extent, but it's different now. I don't know how to explain it. He's a _good_ boy, Potter."

"I know that, Draco. I do. He's the very image of you, but still his own person. It isn't Scorpius I'm afraid of."

Draco nodded and ran one hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly. "It was his birthday. January the ninth." He laughed, the sound almost broken. "I thought that was a portent of things to come. That he would be a great and powerful wizard also."

Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry… I don't understand."

"January the ninth. It was Snape's birthday, too."

Harry blinked, slightly shocked that he'd never known this important piece of information. Everything he'd found out about the man who had done so much for him and for the wizarding world as a whole, and he'd never learned his birthday. 

"I didn't know. I'm sorry. Go on."

"He wanted his birthday outside. We had tents and heating charms, but it stormed so badly the week before that there were still snowdrifts everywhere. He wanted to go skating on the pond and… it was solid, Potter. I tested it every way I knew how. Magic showed an impenetrable layer, the house elves we sent out first crossed safely around the whole length."

Harry sucked in a breath, his heart clenching as his mind raced ahead to the inevitable conclusion. "He fell through the ice."

"I was holding his hand. There wasn't any indicator that the ice was unstable. One moment he was skating along happily, the next he was slipping through my fingers."

The haunted look on Malfoy's face was too difficult to bear. Harry turned away, giving Malfoy a semblance of privacy for his obviously ragged emotions and himself some space from his own feeling of shame at having forced Draco to confront these memories.

"He died. The Healers at St Mungo's were able to revive him, but for two minutes and fifteen seconds, my son was dead. When he woke… I saw it. I saw the darkness in him. It wasn't until tonight, though, that I knew he was a Horcrux."

Harry's eyes widened. "What? You didn't know?"

"I knew _some_ thing was wrong, but I didn't know it was… that horrific."

Harry shook his head, his lips parted as he sought something to say. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. I truly thought you knew."

"How did _you_ know? How can you be so certain?"

Harry took a few moments to prod his memory of the moment he and Scorpius had looked into one another's eyes. He knew the boy was a Horcrux. It was like… "Do you remember losing your teeth when you were a child?"

"How is that—"

"Just bear with me. Do you remember?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"You have an empty spot where that tooth was and the memory of it being there, but it's gone. When Voldemort used the Killing Curse on me the night of the Battle for Hogwarts, he… I suppose you could say I died. I went to a place," Harry cut his eyes towards Draco, not wanting to withhold too much information, but not really comfortable explaining his afterlife as a platform at King's Cross, "where I saw Dumbledore. In the corner, in a bundle of rags, lay what appeared to be a baby. It wasn't, though. It was the bit of his soul that Voldemort inadvertently placed in me when I was a baby. He hurt me, badly, but what he _killed_ was a part of himself.

"When I saw Scorpius today, when he looked at me, I recognised it. I lived with someone else's soul inside me for seventeen years, Draco. I don't know how to explain it, but I _knew_." 

Harry stared at Draco for a long moment before he whispered, "We have to destroy it, Malfoy."

"And how do you propose doing that, Potter? The only way to destroy…" Draco stood up, drawing his wand in one swift movement. "The only way to destroy his soul is to destroy the Horcrux."

Harry held up one hand, shaking his head as Draco advanced on him, his civilised demeanour stripped away until all that was left was a father.

"I know, Draco. I know, okay. I know what it's like, from both sides of this. I know what it's like to _have him in my head_ and I know what it's like to love your children. He's your whole world. I _know_ that."

"I won't let you kill him." Draco's wand was as steady as his voice was shaky. "I won't let you kill my son, Potter."

Harry soundlessly opened and closed his mouth several times. "I don't want to kill him, Draco. There's another way. There _has_ to be another way. Look. We're the only ones who know this, right?"

Draco didn't move; his hand didn't waver.

"Draco, come on. We're the only ones who know about the Horcrux. I'll Obliviate you and then you can—"

"I don't think so, Potter."

"Then you can Obliviate me after I leave a note to myself to Obliviate you."

Draco's sharp bark of laughter was completely devoid of humour. "Again. I don't think so. You knew as soon as you saw him. Do you believe that you won't ever look at my child again?"

"I can't allow either of us to remember. I just can't. You know what can happen." Harry held Draco's gaze with his, all the while surreptitiously easing his wand out of his back pocket.

"Do you honestly believe that I am stupid enough to bring back that… _thing_?" Draco must have seen something in Harry's eyes because the tip of his wand dipped momentarily and he whispered, "You do. You think I'd resurrect him."

"I don't know, okay? I don't know what you'd do. I can't allow Voldemort to be brought back. Don't you get it?"

"How do you even know it's Voldemort? It could be someone else…"

Harry stared at him, incredulous. "Besides the fact that I recognise Voldemort's brand of evil, do you really want anything or anyone Dark enough to even attempt to create a Horcrux stealing your son's mind?"

Draco set his jaw. "Then find a way to get it out of him and kill it. We can't allow it to survive. I won't allow it to destroy Scorpius."

"I'll do it." When Draco hesitated, Harry looked up, staring straight at him. "I'll do it. No child should have to live with Voldemort inside him. I know."

"We should go to the Manor. I… have an extensive library." Something about the hesitation in Draco's voice made Harry look at him, eyes narrowed. Apparently the Ministry raids hadn't managed to find the Dark texts they'd been searching for.

"No. Not yet."

Draco pinned Harry with an intense, angry stare. "I won't delay on this, Potter. I want that _thing_ out of my son!"

"And that's what we're going to do. But first, I want to talk to Scorpius again."

* * *

When the least they could do to you was everything, then the most they could do to you suddenly held no terror. - **Terry Pratchett** , _Small Gods_  


* * *

"And then George—he's a third year—was talking about everything they get to do at Hogsmeade. Did you know there's a _joke shop_ there? And Honeydukes! And oh, I need another set of quills. I let Melissa borrow one yesterday—she broke hers _again_ —and do you know what? She broke _mine_ , too! She's so clumsy! I swear, I keep expecting to be woken up for a house meeting telling us she wandered off one of the moving staircases or something. And did I tell you what happened in Potions?"

Scorpius finally stopped speaking long enough for Draco to get a word in. Shockingly, he wasn't even winded after speaking without pause for nearly two minutes. Biting back a smile, Draco speared a bit of sausage on the tines of his fork and addressed what he could recall of Scorpius' chatter.

"Yes, I'm aware of the many interesting shops in Hogsmeade. The joke shop used to be Zonko's, but I'm almost certain the Weasley boy bought that when the old man retired. I shall send for a new set of quills today, provided you promise not to allow 'Melissa' anywhere near them. You needn't worry for your friend, however, because the school wards won't allow a child to come to harm. Were she to attempt to step off the moving staircases, she'd simply find the stairs had grown." Setting his fork down, Draco broke at least three rules of etiquette by propping one elbow on the white linen tablecloth and resting his chin in his hand. "Now, what happened in Potions?"

"There's a boy in my class, umm… something Longbottom… I can't remember his first name. Anyway, he—"

"Exploded a cauldron?" Draco asked, completely amused.

"No! He's _excellent_ at Potions! He made the potion we were supposed to be working on… but he made it _better_ by adding bicorn extract. I thought Professor Stren was going to explode when he heard what Longbottom did, but even _he_ couldn't deny that the potion was loads better!"

"A Longbottom who is _excellent_ at Potions?" Draco looked down in wonder at his feet, prompting Scorpius to look under the table.

"What?"

"I'm merely surprised that I didn't feel the earth come to a shuddering halt."

"Father!" Scorpius moaned, tossing his napkin across the table. 

A knock at the door interrupted their precious time; checking the hour, Draco realised it must be Potter at the door. Fear coalesced inside him at what was allegedly hiding in a corner of his son's mind. Reaching out a shaking hand, Draco ruffled Scorpius' hair, laughing when Scorpius ducked, grumbling about having to groom himself all over again. 

While Scorpius went to the loo to tidy his hair back into the state of perfection it had been pre-ruffle, Draco went to the door, opening it to see Potter standing on the other side, his Auror robes draping perfectly over his shoulders.

Draco's hand clenched on the solid oak of the door. " _Auror_ Potter. I see you've come in an official capacity." Draco's other hand moved nonchalantly to the interior pocket of his own robes where he wrapped his fingers around his wand.

* * *

Harry glanced up as the door finally opened; Draco was staring at him with a look that ranged between betrayal and fury. Confused, Harry was about to ask what was wrong, when Draco made pointed reference to his attire.

Shaking his head and smiling, Harry hastened to put Malfoy at ease. "No, sorry. I didn't think how this would look. I'm giving a recruitment speech to the Seventh Years today. The uniform is part of the show."

A tense moment went by before Malfoy nodded and stepped back, gesturing for Harry to enter. Dishes still graced the table, making Harry offer a wincing apology for interrupting Malfoy's breakfast.

"No matter. We agreed on this time. Scorpius simply enjoys lingering over breakfast conversation."

Harry grinned, understanding perfectly. "Al is the same way. Speaking of Al, I wonder how the two of them get on? You think they're anything like us?"

"I doubt it," Malfoy responded. "Apparently a very smart former Headmistress switched up the classes a bit. Ravenclaw is now paired with Slytherin and Hufflepuff with Gryffindor."

"Al was sorted into Ravenclaw." Harry's lips twitched with the laugh that was hiding just behind them at Draco's shocked expression. "Of course, knowing about the new arrangements makes me wonder what the professors do for entertainment now that things are so peaceful." 

A sudden shiver caught Harry off-guard. Malfoy, noticing, said, "Are you cold?"

Harry shook his head. "No, just… have you ever felt like someone was walking over your grave?"

"Harry Potter."

The sound of a child's voice calling his name made Harry turn to see Scorpius standing a few feet behind him. Forcing a smile, Harry bent down to ask Scorpius some inane question about his schoolwork when a wave of vertigo sent him to his knees. 

From what seemed a long distance away, Harry heard Malfoy calling his son's name… but it was already too late. 

Harry stared into the red-rimmed eyes, feeling his soul tremble at the _hungry_ look in them. Unable to move, he simply waited. Small hands framed his face and the eyes came closer, closer, until they were a mere blur of darkness blotting out the light.

"Harry Potter." The voice was eerie, not Scorpius' at all. It was drawn out, the pitch at once deep and piercing. It was the voice of Harry's every nightmare.

He opened his mouth—to answer, to scream, he didn't know—and suddenly something was there. It slithered into him, filling him, invading his mind until his own consciousness was merely a weak impression. 

The feeling of relief, of reinstatement, was so overpowering that Harry wanted to cry out from the terribly beauty of it.

It was _his_ and it was home.

* * *

Draco watched in horror as Scorpius gently cradled Potter's face in his hands. The powerful Auror knelt in the circle of his son's frail hands as if Stunned. Draco started forward, reaching out to grab Scorpius back when…

Oh dear God. Was Scorpius _kissing_ Potter? But no. It wasn't a kiss. Or nothing as innocent as a kiss, at any rate.

A long, black thing slithered out of Scorpius' stretched mouth and into Potter's. As soon as the thing was clear of Scorpius, his son's eyes rolled up and he collapsed. 

Nothing so pretty happened to Potter. While his body, too, fell over, Potter looked to be caught in an epileptic fit. His body convulsed as his hands came up to claw at his mouth and eyes. Draco had to intervene before Potter could rip his own tongue from his mouth. 

Not knowing what to do, Draco shoved a ripped piece of his robes into Potter's mouth; giving him something to bite down on besides himself, and quickly transferred Scorpius to the sofa. Eyes darting from Scorpius to Potter and back again, Draco finally decided to see to Potter. Scorpius, at least, appeared to simply be in the midst of a deep sleep while Potter seemed trapped in the throes of death.

As suddenly as the convulsions started, they stopped. Potter lay limply on the floor, light shudders running through his lax body. 

"Potter? Potter, if you can hear me… move."

A tiny twitch of one finger made Draco release a sigh of relief. 

"Where are you hurt?"

Potter moaned softly, raising one hand to his head. Following the direction of Potter's fingers, Draco gasped. The scar that had nearly disappeared now shone a bright, angry red. 

"Dear God."

"Horcrux," Potter whispered weakly. 

Draco jerked at the word. "It is the same one… from before the War?"

Potter nodded slowly, pulling himself tiredly into a foetal position. "Yes. It is. But it's… God, it's powerful. More powerful than it ever was."

"No, it can't be…" Draco backed away to the sofa, shielding his son as he shook his head slowly.

"That's why it was able to possess Scorpius so easily. I'm sure if you ask him later, he won't remember any details of my being here this morning. It'll be a blank place in his memory."

Draco looked down and traced his finger over Scorpius' pale cheek. "How did you survive so long? My strong boy," he murmured.

A hissing noise from Potter made him jerk his head up, his wand instantly focusing on the other man in case Voldemort had managed to overwhelm him.

"That's it!" Potter shook his head fiercely, beating one fist against the floor. "Why didn't I see it before? _Neither can live while the other survives…_ That's why everything was dormant so long. My life fell apart because Voldemort found a way to survive! Everything was perfect. But when Scorpius brought back the bit of him, it all began to change. I could suddenly speak Parseltongue again; my marriage began to fall apart… I blamed it on everything else. I blamed it on the long hours my job demanded, on the long hours _Ginny's_ job demanded—"

"Potter!" Draco snapped his fingers in front of Potter's face. "Stop dwelling on what happened in the past. You can go back and fix all that later. For now, we need to find a way to kill that thing before it takes _you_ over."

Potter blanched, fear filling his eyes for a moment before he looked up at Draco and said, "What if there isn't a way?"

"There must be a way. It moved out of Scorpius, we can force it out of you. We simply need to find out how."

Potter nodded. "Malfoy Manor isn't the only residence that still has a library of Dark texts."

"The Black library."

Potter drew a deep breath and stood. "I'll go there and see what I can find. But… Malfoy?"

Draco raised an eyebrow in enquiry. 

"I need you to come with me. If we… if we fail. I want you to kill me. If there's no other way, I _need_ you to kill me. You're right. There's too great a possibility of it taking over and I can't… I can't allow that to happen."

Draco went still, focusing on everything Potter wasn't saying. Finally he nodded. "I'll do it, Potter. But only if there is no other way."

* * *

Resisting the urge to slam his book shut, Harry closed it gently, his fingers resting lightly on the worn leather cover for a moment before sliding off. Dejection swamping him, Harry jumped to his feet and searched the mostly empty shelves lining the walls. For days they'd done nothing but scour books, first at Grimmauld Place and then here at Malfoy Manor.

Harry slid a glance toward Draco before staring blindly at the books still remaining to be read. His shoulders slumped as the image of Lily's disappointed face flashed through his mind's eye. She'd been so upset when he'd had to cut their visit to Hogwarts short, so very angry with him when he'd gone a step further and whisked her off to Ginny through one of Hogwarts' Floos. Lily was far too young to understand, but he couldn't risk allowing those he loved anywhere near him while a bit of Voldemort twisted inside his mind, searching for a way out.

Thinking of his children caused dejection to turn into depression, and darkness overwhelmed Harry for a moment, nearly driving him to his knees. Struggling to Occlude, he managed to block the screaming voice in his head and silenced it once again. Holding his shaking hands before him, Harry knew they were running out of time. 

He turned away from the texts on gardening and astrology that mocked his hopes. "Tell me you found something," he said, his voice cracking along his dry throat. 

Across the room, Draco turned a page. From the table where he'd been working, Harry picked up the long-forgotten glass of water he'd poured for himself—he checked the clock—over eight hours ago, and took a long swallow of the stale liquid before walking towards Draco.

"Malfoy?"

Draco held up one hand as he traced a finger under a line of text with the other. "Potter."

Harry's breath caught in anticipation of Draco's next words. He wasn't a man given to prayer, but he was formulating several now, just in case.

Draco looked up from the book he'd been reading, his face utterly blank. 

"Nothing. You found nothing."

"Actually… I found _some_ thing. Come and look."

Harry forced himself to walk slowly towards Draco. Leaning over him, he turned the book slightly so as to better read it, following Draco's finger with his eyes to the beginning of a passage about personal life magic. 

"Horcruxes," Harry murmured, his heart leaping as he saw the word printed so innocently on the page. He forced his breathing to remain under control. After all, they'd followed a few leads yesterday and the day before that had ended in disappointment. A bit of black ink in the margins caught his eye, and, distracted, he glanced at it quickly before returning his gaze to the text.

When his brain caught up, he gasped, jumping back from the table and nearly dropping his glass of water. Hand shaking badly, he set it on the first available flat surface before slowly approaching a very confused-looking Draco again. 

Pointing at the writing, Harry asked, "What is this? Do you see it?"

Draco looked down, perplexed. "Of course I see it. It says 'Dementor.'"

Harry nodded. "I've seen that handwriting before. Once." Smoothing a hand over his face, he dragged another chair from around the corner of the desk and sat down next to Draco. "The diary. Tom Riddle's diary. That's Tom Riddle's handwriting."

Easing the book away from Draco, Harry reached across the desk for the ink and quill Draco had been using to take notes. Dipping the quill into the ink, he overloaded the tip before lifting it out and allowing the ink to drip onto the margin of the book, well away from the single hand-written word.

When the ink splattered on the page and stained it, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Settling the quill back into the ink, Harry pulled the book close and began to read the page, starting from the top. When he got to the end of the section, he ran his hand around the back of his neck.

"Potter! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Draco grabbed for the book, but Harry was slightly faster. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Draco…"

"What?" Draco murmured, attempting without success to wipe the spots of ink from the page.

"How do you feel about pipes?"

The frown he received made Harry smile feebly. "We need to visit the Chamber of Secrets. It's the first place I can think of to look for anything Voldemort might have written down, any notes or research."

Draco's face went paler than normal before he nodded. 

Harry breathed a small sigh of relief before he remembered to tell Draco to bring a broom with him.

* * *

It was almost ridiculously easy for Potter to gain them access to the famous Chamber that Slytherin had built to house his Basilisk. Draco snorted when the Headmaster waved his hand and jovially offered "Harry" the run of the place.

"Do you suppose he'd offer the Seventh year girls to you for concubines if you asked nicely?" Draco whispered snidely.

A blank look crossed Potter's face before his lips twitched and he said, "A bit much there, I think. And possibly…" Potter stopped speaking abruptly, his cheeks filling with faint red colour.

"Blushing, Potter?"

"I just, ah… Hmm. I wonder if the battle damaged the entrance to the tunnels."

Draco pursed his lips, but allowed Potter to change the subject.

Fifteen minutes later, Draco was cursing Potter as they stared at the pile of rubble blocking the tunnel. 

"You might have warned me that those pipes were filthy! I could have used an Impervius Charm on my robes!"

"Oh, please. Are you a wizard or aren't you? _Evanesco_!" The rubble cleared instantly as Draco fussed with a few cleaning charms on his robes.

"Come along, dear. You look fine. No, those robes don't make your arse look big."

Potter's sarcastic tone set Draco's teeth on edge, but he followed along anyway. A bit further down, they came upon some thick doors, which Potter opened again with the spitting sort of hisses he'd used on the taps upstairs in the loo. When the doors opened, Potter hesitated for a fraction of a second longer than Draco deemed necessary.

"What's wrong?"

"The last time I was here…"

Draco sighed heavily and pushed past Potter, stepping into the legendary Chamber. The shrivelled remains of the Basilisk lay over the pathway; another vanishing charm took care of it. 

Draco looked around, marvelling at the amount of space there was in this hidden room. "I don't see anything like a study or library here, Potter. Is this just the antechamber?"

Potter stopped next to him and shrugged. "This was the only bit of it I saw, although the Basilisk came from there." Potter pointed to the massive statue of Salazar Slytherin. Draco followed him as he stepped down and began speaking again in Parseltongue. It took him several tries, but finally the mouth opened and beyond it lay a darkened hole. 

"I don't know what's back there. Just… be prepared," Potter said.

"Please tell me Basilisks can't reproduce asexually."

Potter went perfectly still before swearing softly. "I wish you hadn't said that." His shouted _Lumos_ lit the tip of his wand with such a bright light that they could suddenly see back to the far wall of the inner chamber. "Is anything moving?"

Draco frowned and looked over to see Potter standing there with his eyes tightly closed. 

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter. Don't you know _anything_ about snakes?"

Potter shrugged. "No, not really. I never really get a chance to just chat with any." Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, crossing the threshold of the entrance and looking around.

Draco followed as soon as Potter had made it safely inside without being either Petrified or killed. It wasn't as if _he_ knew much about snakes, either. A small smirk lifted his lips at the corners before he lit the sconces lining the walls. "I believe we might have a bit of work on our hands."

The walls were filled with shelves of books and journals. Potter's whispered oath made Draco nod. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Look for anything about Horcruxes or Dementors. Do you know any library spells?"

Draco shrugged and flourished his wand. " _Accio_ books containing the word Horcrux!" A thin journal flew off the far wall, smacking Potter in the back of his head before landing safely in Draco's outstretched hand. At Potter's glare of outrage, Draco shrugged. "My apologies."

Potter narrowed his eyes as he rubbed his hair into even more severe disarray while Draco ignored him and walked to an old, flat, scarred desk arranged against the wall. "Call a house-elf for some tea? It appears we'll be here for a while."

Potter grunted and shouted for Kreacher, who appeared with a low sound of displaced air. After ordering tea and biscuits, Potter _Accio_ 'd books about Dementors. Three appeared this time, all coming from different parts of the room so that Potter had to duck at the last minute to avoid being bludgeoned to death.

Draco sniggered down at his own journal and flipped the page.

Potter looked around at the remainder of the texts and said quietly, "Do you think they're all filled with research about the Deathly Hallows?"

Draco shrugged. "There's no telling. One day we'll come back and take them all. If nothing else, it will be reassuring to know that he didn't leave any other little bits of himself around."

Potter shuddered. "Someone else gets to destroy them if he did. I'm retired from the hero game."

An hour later, Potter looked up, kicking Draco lightly from where he sat on the other side of the desk as he said, "By the way. Call me Harry."

Draco, mind firmly entrenched in the myth and lore of Horcruxes, blinked for a few moments before Potter's words sunk in. "Harry?"

"Yes, it's my name."

"Fine. You may call me Mr Malfoy."

"Git."

Draco shook his head, smirking slightly as he returned his attention to his own book. Sometime later, Draco looked up, rubbing his weary eyes as he reached across the table for one of the journals Harry hadn't yet read.

"Did you find anything?"

"Nothing that would truly help. I marked a few passages for you to review later—or now." Draco sighed as Harry reached eagerly for the journal, yanking it out from under Draco's elbow.

Rather than starting on the next journal, Draco reread the latest correspondence from Scorpius' Head of House while patiently waiting for Harry to finish the sections he had marked. Before leaving on this wild goose chase with Potter, he had demanded to be kept apprised of his son's progress. The long-suffering Professor Stren wrote diligently, but as Draco hadn't seen the point in explaining _why_ he wished his son watched more closely than normal, the letters contained little information of real importance.

He assumed, though, that if Scorpius were gathering his classmates into a band of pure-blooded death machines, the man might see fit to mention that somewhere between Scorpius' eating habits and his classroom manners. After scanning the missive one last time, he refolded it and placed it back in the interior pocket of his robes just as Potter looked up from the journal.

"This says there's no way to remove a soul from a Horcrux without destroying it. The Horcrux, I mean. But then why would he make that note about Dementors?"

Draco sat back in his chair, his foot accidentally nudging Harry's under the table as he stretched his legs out. "Well, let's think. What do we know about Dementors?" He waggled the journal he'd recently liberated from in front of Harry.

"They suck the happiness out of a person."

"No. Potter!" Draco sat forward, banging his knee against the crossbar of the desk hard as the obvious answer burst into his mind in full, Technicolor glory. "They don't just suck the happiness out—"

Harry turned his head sharply and whispered it along with Draco. "Souls."

"Yes. They can suck the soul from a person, leaving only an empty shell of a body."

"Do you think it would work the same with a Horcrux?"

Draco's face fell as reality reared its ugly head. "Oh, fuck. It doesn't matter, does it?"

"What do you mean, it doesn't matter? If they can remove the bit of Voldemort's soul, we have to—"

"Find one. But where are we supposed to find one, eh Potter? You were behind the legislation to ban them from Britain. Do you have any idea where they were banned _to_?"

Harry collapsed forward, his head hitting his crossed forearms with a thunk. 

"Careful. You're already hideously disfigured."

Harry's, "Bugger off," was muffled, but firm.

Draco could kick himself. The entire afternoon had been wasted because he hadn't stopped to simply _think_. Of course it would make sense to have a Dementor cleanse a Horcrux… _if_ one knew how to communicate with them. And _if_ a Dementor could be persuaded to help. 

Draco grunted and picked up the journal lying open on the table in front of him. Before he wasted even more time, however, he looked up at Harry and said, "Did you read anything in there about communicating with Dementors?"

Harry brought his head up, rubbing it wearily as he opened the journal he'd been reading from. "Yes. It outlines it here. We'll need some crystal balls."

"What? Divination?"

"It sounds more like Legilimency. You project your thoughts into the crystal, trapping them inside. The Dementor… sort of sucks them out."

Draco's brows shot up. "And how do you do that?"

Harry shook his head. "No idea. But that's never stopped me before."

* * *

Harry pulled his head out of the Floo, choking slightly on the ash and soot that flew up when Kingsley closed the connection on his end. 

"Well?" Draco asked, sounding far more impatient than was warranted from the brief conversation Harry had just had with the ex-Minister.

"Kazakhstan. Several import treaties were made with the Ministry there to guarantee they would take the Dementors and keep them isolated in the northwest corner of the country."

Draco narrowed his eyes, lips moving for a moment before his gaze snapped back to Harry and he drew his wand, conjuring… a ball? No, it was a globe. Harry frowned and stepped forward. "What is this for?"

"I'm looking at the Apparition points between here and Astana."

"Astana?"

Draco turned and looked at him curiously. "The capital city. There will be a wizarding centre there where we can find information on the Dementors."

Harry nodded, trying to pretend he'd known this information all along.

"Why do you suppose they were sent to Kazakhstan?" he asked, watching the way a strand of Draco's hair fell forward, framing the eye and the portion of his lips Harry could see. Harry shifted uncomfortably, cursing the Horcrux for requiring so much of his mental shielding that he'd dropped the guard on his libido.

"It's a cold climate, of course, with a very small human population," Draco murmured, measuring the distance between London and a tiny dot on the globe that Harry supposed must be Astana. With an irritated huff, Draco reached into a pocket of his robes, pulling out a length of black ribbon that he used to tie back his hair, relieving Harry of his moment of discomfort as well.

"Of course," Harry said, once more out of his element.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Didn't you _read_ those journals we found in the Chamber? Or were you just looking for pretty pictures?"

Harry flushed, chafing at the slight. "I was looking for something to do with Horcruxes, not… writing a dictionary entry on the things."

"Hmph. Well, Dementors draw their energy from humans. They crave our warmth as well as our souls. The more of each they can suck out of us, the stronger they become. By relegating them to a cold climate with a low population, they are kept weak. I doubt they even have the power to breed any longer."

Harry shuddered, remembering the dense fog that had filled Britain twenty years earlier. Suddenly, being a living container for a Horcrux didn't seem quite so horrible. He'd managed to survive seventeen years with it before, give or take. Just… _Dementors_ … 

The memory of his mother's screams echoing in his ears, Harry said, "Tell me again why we're going to look for Dementors?"

"Hmm. I would hazard a guess that it has something to do with the bit of Voldemort that's living inside you right now."

Harry smiled weakly. "It'll die with me, right? I mean, we don't _have_ to go looking for soul-sucking hell-fiends if we don't want to."

Draco looked at him, raising one pale eyebrow. "Potter, did your ex-wife take your bollocks with her when she left?"

"Shut up. It was a mutual split."

"Mmmhmm."

"All right! We'll go looking for the damned Dementors. But I want it on record that I think this is a really bad idea."

"So noted. Pack warmly for Kazakhstan as the seasonal temperatures for October hover around the freezing point. I'll make arrangements with the international Portkey office. It'll be easier than trying to Apparate such a long distance."

"Oh wonderful. International Portkeys and Dementors. What next?"

* * *

Draco and Harry rode side by side on their brooms; Draco snuggled down comfortably inside the cocoon of his warming charm and the parka that shielded him from the worst of the arctic elements. Two days of waiting for the Portkey to come through followed by a day spent following leads in Astana had made Harry jumpier and jumpier until Draco wanted to sit on him.

He'd known Harry hated Dementors, he just hadn't realised how deep were the roots of his phobia. 

"What are we going to do when we find them?" he called, breaking the silence that had settled between the two men when they'd left the last outpost nearly two miles back.

Harry raised one hand from the handle of his broom, swiping a fine layer of ice from his goggles before he turned to Draco. "I don't really know. I have the crystal ball in my pack, but how to stop them from attacking us…" He shook his head, facing forward again. His next words were snatched away by the wind, but Draco was watching closely enough that he could read them on Harry's lips. "I just don't know."

Draco sighed, gripping his broom even harder as he sifted through the information he'd gathered while rereading the journals they'd found. Considering how many journals Tom Riddle had kept on the subject, there had been surprisingly little in them about how to actually provoke conversation—or what passed for conversation between human and Dementor. 

The only plan Draco had was to cast a localised freezing charm on a Dementor and _Accio_ it to them. He rather doubted, however, that such a plan would actually work. 

A low pitched whine in the back of his mind startled Draco then and he nearly pulled his broom off-track as his grip tightened on the handle. "Potter!"

Harry was already slowing, what little of his face Draco could see draining of colour. "Dammit, Potter. You can't lose it now! Draw your wand." Draco hopped from his broom before it truly stopped, pulling his wand free as he turned slow circles, looking around them for the source of the blood-chilling sound in his head.

"They're here," Harry breathed, moving to stand back to back with Draco. "They're coming closer."

"How many?"

"I don't know. I can feel them, but… God, it's awful. I'd forgotten just how bad it was."

"Stop thinking about them, Potter, and concentrate on remembering happiness."

"I don't…"

"If you have children, Potter, you have happy memories. Now, think of something and ready your Patronus."

The firm certainty in Draco's voice seemed to do the trick. Harry straightened, his arm coming up as he waited for the increasingly uncomfortable presence of the as yet unseen Dementors to show. 

"I've got it."

Draco started at the unexpected sound of Harry's voice. "You've got what?"

"I know how to capture a Dementor!"

Draco waited a heartbeat before impatience took hold. "Well? Are you going to keep me in suspense, or are you going to share this pearl?"

"Have your Patronus fend off the pack and circle back around to help mine. I'm going to have it trap one."

"Against what? This is a huge, empty field of frozen wasteland!"

 

He could feel Harry shrug. "I don't know. I just know it will work."

" _How_ do you know?"

"I—listen. If I have to stand here and analyse it, it's going to fail. Most of what works for me works because I _believe_ it will. There's not a lot of logic to it."

Draco nodded. "Ignore me, then. Do your thing. I'll just be over here cursing you and all your descendants if your brilliant plan goes pear-shaped."

"Heh. Sounds about right. Is that a cloud, or is that them?"

Draco followed Harry's finger to a spot on the horizon that was slowly growing bigger. "I'm fairy certain that's our doom come to meet us."

* * *

Harry watched as the 'cloud' drew closer and materialised into separate black dots, which quickly grew bigger. "On my mark, call your Patronus." A terrible thought froze him then and he whispered anxiously, "Please tell me you have a Patronus."

"What am I, Potter? Six? Of course I have a Patronus." 

Harry released a relieved breath and said, "Three… two… one! _Expecto Patronum!_ " 

His stag leapt onto the frozen ground in front of him, pawing at the tundra as it stood between Harry and the coming tide of Dementors. "Can you catch one?" Harry asked, breathing a sigh as the stag nodded its head regally.

Flicking his gaze sideways, Harry saw that Draco's Patronus was some sort of a large cat. "What is that? A tiger?"

Draco paused for a short moment before he said, "It's a lioness, actually."

"A… lioness?"

"Now is not exactly a good time to take exception to the form of my Patronus," Draco pointed out through clenched teeth.

Harry smiled despite their situation. "Not taking exception. Just a bit surprised, that's all."

"What, that it's a female of its species?"

Harry shook his head, recalling Snape's doe. "No, of course not. Just... I would never have expected any sort of lion from _you_ , of all people."

Draco wasn't given a chance for a rejoinder as the Dementors were suddenly upon them. The two Patronuses leapt and snarled, fighting off the tide in a blur of quicksilver magic. 

"Just a question," Draco asked, sounding a bit too composed.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, eyes flickering between the Patronuses and the mostly-retreating Dementors.

"What are you going to do with the Dementor once you've trapped it?"

"Talk to it."

"Would you like me to conjure tea for the two of you?"

Harry rolled his eyes but didn't comment further as he saw that his stag and Draco's lioness had chased off all but one of the Dementors. That one was hovering between the two magical beasts, attempting to get away but unable to penetrate their protective circle. 

Harry swung his pack around in front of him, whipping it open quickly and pulling forth a crystal ball. Holding the ball up, he carefully composed the message he wanted to transmit to the Dementor and thought it clearly at the ball. 

Nothing happened.

"How will I know if it worked?"

"You're not seriously asking _me_ are you? What happened to figuring things out as you go along?" Draco's haughty superiority was back in full force now that the majority of the Dementors had fled.

Harry shook his head, chewing his lip as he smoothed his glove-covered fingers over the surface of the ball. An idea formed and he raised his wand to his temple, thinking the message again as he Occluded all other thought. Murmuring a simple spell, he pulled his wand free, squinting his eyes open to see that a strand of white gauzy thought was clinging to the tip.

He gently laid the thought on the crystal, holding his breath as he waited to see what would happen. A breath whooshed from him as he watched it slowly sink into the flawless globe.

"See?" he murmured. "I told you I'd think of something."

"You have got to be the most stupidly lucky person in the entire universe."

Harry looked up at Draco. "I killed Voldemort with a disarming spell and you're _just now_ realising this?"

Draco laughed, the sound far more carefree than Harry would have imagined. Harry smiled at him in wonder for a moment before a movement from the corner of his eyes drew his attention back to the Dementor and the task at hand.

"Well," he said, fear coiling inside him. "Time to see if we can barter with the devil."

* * *

Draco followed along beside Harry, shaking his head at the foolishness of what they were about to attempt. Harry's features were set, determined, but the paleness of his skin told a story of its own. Harry might be resolved to this path, but he was obviously not above being overwhelmed with fear.

Draco reached out, clasping one hand to Harry's shoulder in comfort as he said, "If anything goes wrong…"

Harry paused, then turned to him. "Draco. If… you'll do it? Don't let me live like that. Please."

Draco stared at Harry, face deadly serious as he said, "I'll do it."

Harry nodded slowly, gaze locked on Draco's as thoughts appeared to tumble behind the muted green of his eyes. Suddenly, he darted forward, one hand reaching up to clasp the back of Draco's head as Harry crushed his full lips to Draco's own. The kiss was brief, a mere second or two, but it managed to tilt the foundation of everything Draco knew to be true.

When Harry pulled back, he opened his mouth to speak, then closed it suddenly, his jaw setting. "I'm not apologising. Come on."

Draco stared after him for a moment, wondering if the tension and stress of the moment had driven Harry out of his mind. He brought his fingers to his mouth, touching them lightly before the sound of his name jogged him out of his temporary mental fug. 

Hurrying forward, he saw that Harry had already turned over the crystal ball to the clearly agitated Dementor. The Dementor lifted the ball to its hood and Draco could hear a sort of reverse hissing as the Dementor drew the thought out of the ball. The crystal shattered in the Dementor's claw-like hands, raining down to the ground in glittery flakes.

Draco waited, breath held, to see what the Dementor would do. He could _feel_ the absolute stillness that Harry was projecting and then the violent start the other man gave as the Dementor raised its hands to remove its hood. The hideous figure it showed made Draco draw back, horrified.

He had always known that Harry was a man more heroic than intelligent; his belief was reaffirmed when Harry set his jaw and moved forward. The Dementor stretched out one hand, drawing Harry almost lovingly towards it and for a moment, Draco could feel its stare land on him. Another shudder shook him and he took an involuntary step forward as the Dementor lowered its head toward Harry's.

Draco tightened his grip on his wand, waiting with an enforced patience to see what would come out of Harry. If it were anything other than the snake-like Horcrux, he would set his waiting Patronus on the Dementor and damn the consequences. The soul-searing mewling rose up out of Harry's throat as the Dementor opened its mouth. Draco flinched as he watched the Horcrux distend Harry's mouth, obviously fighting the pull of the Dementor.

Harry slumped forward into the Dementor's grip as the last of the Horcrux was pulled free of his lips. Draco watched, eyes wide with terror, as Harry's Patronus flickered and died. 

Shaking with fear and adrenaline, Draco leapt forward, grabbing Harry from the Dementor just as it began feeding on the suddenly helpless man in its arms. Placing himself between Harry and the Dementor, Draco was overcome with bone-shattering cold.

He turned and looked up into the face of the Dementor, raising his wand to call his Patronus. Instead, he found himself transported back in time.

_"Father? My birfday is the bestest birfday ev--"_

_"Scorpius!" Draco screamed as he felt Scorpius' fingers slide through his grip, the breaking of the ice so sudden that he hadn't the chance to respond before Scorpius was swept into the black water below…._

_"Scorpius," Draco whispered as they drew his son from the lake, his skin shockingly blue except at his lips and eyelids, where it was purple. "Scorpius."_

_"Why did you let me die, Father?" the spectre of his son asked…._

_"Scorpius!" Draco wailed, backing away in horror as he watched his son's face change, becoming scaly and pale, his hair and nose falling away until the transformation from son to monster was complete…._

Blackness began to overwhelm Draco then and for a moment he was dislodged from the terror of his memories and fears as a blur of silver leapt upon the Dementor. He had only a moment to appreciate the strength and grace of his own Patronus before he sank into unconsciousness.

* * *

A sudden weight landing on him woke Harry just in time to see the Dementor descending on him again. The weight was apparently Draco, who was so still, Harry feared for his life. 

Pushing that worry from his suddenly clear mind, Harry conjured his Patronus once more, relief making him weak as the stag chased off the terrifying creature. Struggling out from under Draco's limp form, Harry stroked his hand over the static feel of his Patronus' regal head before he allowed it to dissipate.

Turning back to Draco, Harry fell to his knees beside him, fighting to take off his gloves. Once his hand was free of the confining material, he wriggled it into the space between Draco's parka and skin, feeling along the hard line of jaw and sliding beneath to check for a pulse. 

He closed his eyes, concentrating fiercely on that small patch of skin until he felt it. A pulse, weak but steady. Harry slumped in relief before quickly pulling his glove back on and casting a levitation charm on Draco's body. He led him to where they'd abandoned their brooms before shrinking Draco's and putting it carefully into his pack. 

"You'll kill me if I bend so much as a twig on this thing, I just know it," Harry babbled down at Draco's still, floating form. Being free of Voldemort once more left him feeling light-headed and almost giddy even as fear for Draco continued to swamp him. The horrible tug of war inside him left Harry reeling even as the urgency of the moment pressed him onward.

Mounting his broom, he sped forward, his magic propelling Draco along at the same speed.

"I'll have you safe and warm in that outpost before you know it. Stay with me, Draco. Please stay with me."

* * *

"…I won't let…"

The cold was all-pervasive, filling his bones and spilling out into his veins to race through his body. Red exploded behind his eyelids as pain engulfed him.

"…not going to die…"

A pained grunt forced itself from his throat and he heard something—or someone—scrambling next to him.

"—aco?!"

Something cool was pressed to his lips and it wasn't until liquid sloshed against them that he realised he was supposed to be drinking. He was so far gone that he didn't even hesitate, just parted his lips and sucked the foul-tasting liquid down. 

Coughing forced him to roll weakly to the side as whatever he'd ingested released blessed warmth into his bloodstream again. A warm hand against his cheek made his eyelids flutter in relief and he rolled his face towards it.

Memory was slow to return, but when it did, he painfully levered himself onto one elbow and forced his eyelids up. 

"Potter?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm here. How do you feel?"

Draco blinked, Harry's words too fast for his sluggish brain to decipher and deal with at the moment. Instead, he turned his attention to the one detail that wouldn't stop niggling at him.

"You kissed me."

Harry sat back, his warm hand sliding away from Draco who unthinkingly leaned forward to follow it, nearly falling from the camp bed he was stretched out on. Draco frowned, shivering again as he attempted to pull the several layers of blankets up over his bare chest and shoulders.

Harry cleared his throat, his eyes locked somewhere just above Draco's head as he shrugged and said, "Yes, well. I thought I was about to die. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Reading the uneasiness on Harry's face—correctly, he hoped—Draco relaxed his grip on the blankets and said, "I wouldn't mind if you did it again."

Harry's gaze snapped to his just that quickly. "What? But… you're _married_."

Draco snorted. "A fact that has not stopped Astoria from seeking out her French lover these past several years."

Harry's face softened. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." Deciding that if he waited for Harry, nothing would ever happen, Draco reached up with a shaking hand and slid it around Harry's neck, marvelling at how the wayward strands of Harry's hair caressed the back of his hand. Tugging lightly, he said, "Think of it this way. We can't allow your last kiss to be from a Dementor, can we now?"

Harry's smile, though brief, was bright enough to chase away the last of the cold.

* * *

The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning. - **Ivy Baker Priest** , _in Parade, 1958_  



End file.
